


The Devil Made Me Do It

by knucklewhite



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Forced Orgasm, M/M, Porn Battle, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knucklewhite/pseuds/knucklewhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer smiles and runs his knuckles across the tips of Amenadiel's wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil Made Me Do It

“What is it they say about never appreciating what you have until it's gone?”  
  
“Release me,” Amenadiel says through clenched teeth.  
  
“Oh, I don’t think I will. I know I looked fabulous in adamantium, but the color suits you so much more. You’re resplendent, brother.”  
  
The rattle of chains echoes through the penthouse. “Lucifer, I’m warning you…”  
  
Lucifer smiles and runs his knuckles across the tips of Amenadiel's wings where they’re outstretched and pinned to the wall. He’s not sure what he’s enjoying more: Amenadiel's reluctant shudders against the restraints, or the sensation of live feathers against his skin once again. That was the worst thing about his occasional visits to the dead things that used to be his wings — oh, they still shone with His light, even in a dank shipping container, but they were no more alive than any other taxidermied carcass. It was almost a taunt: the light’s still on, but nobody’s home.  
  
Amenadiel's wings, though — they vibrate under Lucifer’s touch; they make the twin scars on his back ache with remembered pleasure.  
  
“I knew I’d miss them,” Lucifer says, rubbing a long flight feather between forefinger and thumb, savoring Amenadiel's sharp intake of breath, “but I failed to realize how much of an erogenous zone they are. It’s just not the same without them.”  
  
“Ungh. Somehow I— I doubt that.”  
  
“I know. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Still, I’m enjoying your initiation, brother dearest. Isn’t this fun?”  
  
Lucifer takes a step back to admire his little scenario. Amenadiel does, indeed, look resplendent, chained naked against the wall, his wings outstretched full-span, his chest heaving and slick with sweat. Despite Amenadiel’s protestations, his cock is half-hard against his thigh. That evidence of arousal is enough to heat the blood in Lucifer’s veins.  
  
“Release me now,” Amenadiel growls, “and we’ll forget this ever happened.”  
  
“Forget this? But I thought this was what you wanted! Me, back in the game. Torturing the innocent. Corrupting the good. Defiling the holiest of holies. This is what I am, isn’t it?”  
  
Indeed, torture has never been this fun. It almost makes submitting to father’s assigned role for him worth it. He was made for this.  
  
“Lucifer, please.”  
  
“What do you desire, Amenadiel?” Lucifer dips his head to meet Amenadiel’s downturned eyes.  
  
The chains bite into Amenadiel's flesh as he struggles, his wings flexing against the restraints. The muscles in his neck stand out in thick cords. “Please, brother, don’t do this.”  
  
Lucifer lets the fire of hell swallow his pupils, tinting his vision until the room is painted in shades of red, until Amenadiel's true form shifts into view, almost painfully bright, and so painfully beautiful.  
  
“Tell me, brother,” Lucifer croons. “What is it that you most desire? What do you desire above all else?”  
  
Amenadiel slumps against the chains, head hanging. “You, brother. I desire you.”  
  
There’s a quippy response in there somewhere, but Lucifer can’t quite grasp it. Instead, it dissolves in the heat of triumph, in the flame-like lick of desire.  
  
He smiles, showing all his teeth.  
  
Then, stepping forward, he leans in to mouth at the place where Amenadiel's left wing meets his shoulder. Amenadiel’s moan at the touch of tongue is yet more fuel for Lucifer’s fire. Each harsh exhale of Amenadiel’s breath fans his arousal. Lucifer tastes the salt of his brother’s human form, and, beneath it, Amenadiel’s true essence.  
  
“Brother,” he says against Amenadiel’s skin, eyes closed. “Brother.”  
  
He pulls away to strip off his shirt, buttons popping and pinging to the marble floor. He’s eager to press his bare skin to Amenadiel’s warmth. Lucifer has always relished the tactile heat of human flesh, but Amenadiel’s essence is an inferno that the thin membrane of his earthly form can’t contain. And Amenadiel is fully hard now, his cock bobbing against the flat planes of his stomach, jutting against Lucifer’s own erection as Lucifer leans in to open his mouth against Amenadiel’s neck.  
  
The temptation to just rut against Amenadiel is almost overwhelming. He could simply bury his face in Amenadiel’s feathers and release this pent-up hunger in a warm flood against Amenadiel’s skin.  
  
But Lucifer is not here to be tempted. He’s here to tempt. It’s his job, after all.  
  
“Falling doesn’t have to be a trial. Falling is exhilarating. Why fear falling when you have these?” He reaches around to run his fingers through the down at Amenadiel’s shoulder. Stroking along the ridge of Amenadiel’s wing, he’s rewarded by a low groan.  
  
“Please, I cannot—”  
  
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Lucifer grips the edge of Amenadiel’s wing, pushing his fingers between the feathers, feeling delicate bones shift and flex. He releases his grip and then repeats the process: stroke, grip, delve. And again and again, until Amenadiel is juddering against the chains.  
  
“It— stop— ungh—”  
  
Amenadiel is close. His cock gleams wet in the darkness, sticky with anticipation. Lucifer knows full well how good this feels: that almost painful pleasure that renders a human body nothing but a puppet of twitches and moans. There’s a lot to be said for a human orgasm, but an orgasm induced by nothing but the wings? That’s something else entirely.  
  
“Fall, brother. Fall for me.” He claims Amenadiel’s mouth — roughly at first, and then gentling when he feels Amenadiel’s reciprocation, tongue meeting tongue. Lucifer strokes Amenadiel’s wing in time with the motion of their tongues.  
  
The chains clatter as Amenadiel surges forward and comes.


End file.
